


Countdown

by coffeestainanalyst



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Gaslighting, Hydra got their hands on Bucky AND Steve AU, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Skinny!Steve, Unreliable Narrator, additional warnings include offscreen murder of Hydra's enemies, and none of them is the perpetrator either, and very brief mention of a dead child, believe it or not in between all that this is actually a really sappy love story, cap!bucky, mindfuckery, not between Steve and Bucky though, semi-explicit disposal of bodies, that should be all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeestainanalyst/pseuds/coffeestainanalyst
Summary: A story of HYDRA’s assets Bucky and skinny!Steve, who despite being deadly prize assassins would do anything for each other. Much to their superiors’ amusement.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This would never have happened without my amazing beta readers [taydev](http://buckysbuttinspector.tumblr.com), [lauralot](http://lauralot89.tumblr.com), and the amazing Saturday night trash chat crowd. 
> 
> Extra thanks to everybody who put their time and energy into making the trash book possible. You're my heroes. <3

**-10-**

It’s almost done. Thank god, because Steve’s headache is getting worse and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to hide it from Bucky. 

He hardly remembers taking the targets down. Steve grits his teeth – being allowed out in the field is a privilege he obtained through years of faithful service. He’s the super-soldier program’s failed experiment: still standing at 5 foot 4 with barely any physical powers to speak of. (It’s a running gag among the scientists; that he’s the only one ever who came out of the device and immediately insisted on going back in.) 

Maybe that’s why HYDRA kept him despite his uselessness as a fighter, assigned him as a strategist instead. Even though Steve likes to think that what he lacks in strength he makes up with determination, it’s safe to say their flawless mission record isn’t due to his mean right punch. The last thing he needs is his body betraying him even further with another bout of cryptic pain and false memories. 

“Hey, give me a hand here,” Bucky says and throws Steve a roll of plastic wrap. _Right_. Steve starts preparing the room while Bucky carries the bodies to the table and fetches the saw. Not even the little one is going to fit into the bags in one piece. 

“Done?” Bucky asks. Steve nods. They’re ghosts, neither to be seen nor heard – so instead of a chainsaw, it’s manual work. The device Bucky presses against Steve’s chest is a radio though. 

“Get out, call for extraction.” 

“But –” 

“Whistle if you see someone coming. _Today_ , Rogers.” 

Steve frowns at him but gathers his stuff dutifully. In the field, Bucky calls the shots. 

On his way out, Steve halts and closes the girl’s eyes. HYDRA’s quest for freedom is the center of his life, but he wishes they were good enough to succeed without causing casualties. 

 

**-9-**

As expected, the Secretary is pleased. 

Now they’ll only have to undergo the usual post-mission ritual, then they’ll be left alone to rest.  _Patience_ , Steve reminds himself, though he can hardly wait to slump down on his cot next to Bucky. He’s bone-deep tired, and kneeling with his head down isn’t helping the insistent thrumming behind his forehead either. 

Steve’s left forearm is itching like mad, but he’s already fastened the shackles. Beautifully crafted things, lined with gems and etched symbols, worthy of an ancient society such as HYDRA. Still goddamn uncomfortable. Cursing under his breath, Steve rubs his irritated skin against the dark floorboards for temporary relief. Pierce is a busy man and usually keeps them waiting, even when they’re naked and bent into position on the floor of the private room behind his office. 

It’s part of the vows. When they’re done giving their mission report, they swear allegiance, and getting marked by their leader is a symbol of their renewed bond with HYDRA. Steve doesn’t mind so much, not like he thinks Bucky does. When they’re alone, Bucky calls Pierce a pervert and spits on the floor when he says his name. 

Pierce never manages to coax a physical response out of Bucky either, even though from rooming together Steve knows that Bucky is very much capable of having erections. Once, Steve offered to kneel to him like they kneel to Pierce, and Bucky almost doubled over snarling that he’d rather cut his dick off. Steve hasn’t asked since. 

It’s the only secret Steve keeps from him: the fact that Steve could grow to enjoy the ritual, especially if he’s second and Pierce draws his dick out of Bucky just to shove it into him right afterwards. Steve bites his lip. What he imagines when he closes his eyes during the vows neither Pierce nor Bucky can know. 

“Good evening, gentlemen.” From the corner of his eye, Steve sees the knuckles of Bucky’s right hand turn white as the door falls shut behind Pierce.  _One da_ y, Steve tells himself. One day Pierce will no longer have stamina enough for the both of them, and then Steve will volunteer. 


	2. Chapter 2

**-8-**

Nobody, nobody in the whole wide world can tell Bucky they couldn’t just as well kiss a ring. 

The entire ceremony is bullshit. It’s not about upholding protocol or catering to some ancient rite, it’s purely Pierce getting off on reminding them that they are his: his soldiers, his creations – his possessions. 

“The board is very pleased with your accomplishments today.”

Bucky grits his teeth as Pierce pets his ass playfully. He wonders how pleased the board would be if he ripped the man’s throat out. _Steve’s not well_ , he reminds himself. _Hold your tongue, get this over with._

Something’s not right though; the hands on his skin do not return. Instead, Pierce settles down between Steve’s thighs. Bucky frowns. That’s unusual, and unusual seldom bodes well for them. To his right, Steve starts reciting his vows, quiet but heartfelt; _to serve and protect, body and soul –_

His words make something ache in Bucky’s chest. Steve truly means it: being allowed to put his life on the line amongst the other agents is everything to him. Selfless idiot. Too stupid to see that muscle or not, he’s worth twenty of their so-called leaders. 

The snap of a plastic lid is followed by a slick sound, and Steve stumbles over the final sentence. Bucky has never hated Pierce so fiercely as he hates him right now – these vows are as close to sacred to Steve as it gets, and that fucking bastard can’t even keep his hands to himself till Steve’s done. 

There’s another set of wet noises and Steve exhales with a low “ _Uhh_.” He sucks in two, three shaky breaths before he catches himself. “This I swear,” he finishes and immediately clamps his mouth shut, obviously trying to stifle any unwelcome sounds Pierce might coax out of him. Steve’s tough, used to biting down all sorts of pain… pleasure though, he’s not always so good at hiding. 

Bucky’s cheeks heat up at Steve’s deep sigh and he stares straight ahead, fixates on the carvings in the mahogany cabinet across the room instead of Steve’s gently rocking body next to him. _No_. The only men Bucky despises more than those who are allowed to touch them are those who get their rocks off watching. 

“That’s my boy,” Pierce chuckles. He doesn’t seem to be in a hurry this time. Normally he doesn’t waste time on preparation, but today – 

“Oh!” Steve gasps out loud before his voice gets muffled again. “Ye- _mmnh_.” 

Bucky looks over reflexively, just for a second. Pierce is penetrating Steve with some kind of device, thinner than his cock, smooth and slightly curved. Steve’s lips are slack, eyes closed in an expression of intense concentration as Pierce works that thing in and out. Catching Bucky’s glance, Pierce actually _winks_ at him and that’s it, the man’s living on borrowed time. 

Bucky snaps his head back. He stares holes into the mahogany cupboard, but Pierce’s voice rings in his ears nonetheless. 

“That’s it, open up. Yes, just like that. That’s good, isn’t it? Ssh, relax, it’s going all the way in. Perfect. Yes, now clench, keep it inside.” 

Something clicks and Steve’s breath hitches loudly. Pierce laughs. “That’s the lowest setting. You like it?” 

Chains rattle, followed by a frustrated huff.

“Ah,” Pierce chuckles. “Let me help you out.” The sound of what comes next is unmistakable for anyone who’s ever jerked off with a hand around his dick. In combination with the vibrating thing inside him it must make quite an impression, because Steve’s breath rapidly becomes more and more ragged. 

“Let go,” Pierce says and it’s no more than a small cry that escapes Steve as he comes, followed by the now obscenely slick squelching of Pierce’s hand. That’s all it takes for Bucky’s mind to supply him with pictures of what he’s trying not to look at, and he’s acutely aware of the heaviness of his cock between his legs. 

 _Reacting to Pierce’s sick games; that’s a new low_ , Bucky thinks as he digs his nails into his palm hard to nip out the traitorous coiling of arousal. A grunt of discomfort from Steve’s position brings him back to reality. “Enough,” Steve murmurs, “Take it out.” He doesn’t have sufficient leverage to reach behind himself. 

Pierce tsks. “Don’t be selfish. I understand you’re pretty sensitive after, but you both deserve a reward, and Mr Barnes here needs a bit of extra encouragement.” His hands cup Steve’s ass cheeks, squeezing them together tightly as he leans forward and whispers something into his ear. As if Bucky’s hearing wasn’t better than that. Threatening Steve with hurting Bucky, that’s a red line and Pierce has full-body crossed it. “Yeah, come at me with your toys,” he grinds out between gritted teeth. “Shove ‘em in dry, hell, shove them in sideways, see if I care.” 

Pierce smiles mildly, climbing behind Bucky. “You misunderstand my intention,” he says, slicking himself up with the hand that’s still wet from Steve’s release. “I only have your best interests in mind.” He lines up and Bucky’s grateful for the sting. “There we go,” Pierce sighs. 

On the floor to Bucky’s right, Steve lets out a low wheeze. 

Pierce lets Bucky adjust to his girth for a moment. “Your work is a gift to mankind,” he says, “I find it sad that you should not at least take a bit of pleasure in return.” He laughs. “Therefore the rules are as follows: our Mr Rogers here stays wired, so to speak, until you get off.” 

“You – are you kidding me –” 

“Right,” Pierce says. “The lowest setting isn’t much motivation, is it?” He reaches for a tiny white remote and as he presses a button, Steve’s whole body jerks in on itself, gasping hard. 

“It’s okay Steve,” Bucky says. “Don‘t worry ‘bout me. Try and push it out –” 

“No, I can do it,” Steve murmurs into his left wrist. “I, I got this.” 

Pierce runs his fingers over a metal plate on Bucky’s shoulder, traces a scar where it connects. “You’re only prolonging his discomfort. Tell me what you like and this can be over soon.” 

“For starters, you can kiss my ass,” Bucky hisses. It’s a knee-jerk reaction, really, he doesn’t mean for Pierce to press that button again, making Steve mash his cheek against the floor to stifle the sob. “No,” Bucky rushes, “No, stop it! Get my hands out of these goddamn shackles, at least the right one. I’ll do it, fine, I’ll get myself off while you fuck me.” 

Pierce bottoms out slowly, rakes his fingers across Bucky’s back. “Ah,” he says, “I’m afraid the shackles are protocol. If you want to be touched, you’ll have to ask for it.” 

Bucky closes his eyes. He can’t let Steve pay for his personal vendetta. “ _Please_.” 

To his surprise, Pierce responds immediately, tugging at Bucky’s half-hard cock with his slick hand. Right, still sticky because Steve came all over it and – _ah_. Bucky’s cock jumps and panic threatens to well up inside him; to let go like that with Pierce looming above him suddenly seems like an unbearably scary prospect. Bucky forces himself to get a grip. Steve’s being tortured right beside him, now’s not the time to get squeamish. 

“Not like that,” Bucky whispers past the tightness in his throat. “Don’t push in and out, keep it – keep it inside and roll your hips.” Pierce complies with an amused hum, finding just the right angle to make nausea and arousal twist heavily in Bucky’s guts. 

Steve’s ragged breathing is the only sound filling the air. It’s strained with discomfort, yes, but some of his moans sound – damn. Bucky peeks over. That wicked device has Steve’s cock resting flushed and heavy against his wiry thighs again. 

“Do you fuck him?” Pierce asks casually. 

“What?” Bucky grinds out. Pierce’s hand on his dick tugs mercilessly. His chuckle tickles Bucky’s neck. 

“The board wouldn’t mind,” he states. “We just keep him because you work better if he’s around. Whatever use you find for him, by all means go ahead.” 

“How dare you,” Bucky snarls. “How fucking dare you –” 

“Come on, like you wouldn’t want to stick it in when he’s still red and wet from me,” Pierce muses. “You’d be polite at first, huh, asking him for permission like a gentleman. But give it a month and he won‘t be able to walk because you use him all day.” 

Bucky grunts in disdain and Pierce flicks his finger over Bucky’s cock just so, making him rock his hips back into Pierce’s grip. “Shut _up_!” 

“Relax, he’d probably love it. Comes for me every time, did you know that? He’ll come for you too.” Pierce pulls out for a moment, rubs his cockhead across the flushed ring of Bucky’s hole. “Mh. In fact, I think he’s close right now. You should watch.” 

Pierce sounds like he’s making a friendly suggestion, but his hand grabs a fistful of Bucky’s hair and turns his head to the side. 

Steve’s body lies in a twisted eight, cheeks pressed against the floorboards. He’s muttering incoherently while his body keeps moving; small, involuntary jerks alternating with fruitless attempts to relieve the pressure by changing position. A prominent smudge of precome glistens on his flank and the floor beside him. 

“Look how slender he is, all smooth and lanky – nice change to the steroid overkill you usually see around here,” Pierce tells him as he slips his cock back into Bucky’s body. 

“You know what? If you shove your cock into him to the hilt, you can feel yourself when you press up against his belly. If you want, you can rub one out while you’re inside him – use your knuckles, drag them up and down where you feel the nub of your cock and wait for him to try and twist out. By the time you’re ready to fill him up, his guts are all raw and tender for you, and your load’s gonna make him buck like a stallion.” 

Suddenly, without any warning, Steve lets out a deep sigh that hits Bucky straight in the belly, right where his shameful arousal curls like a snake. Steve’s body arches off the floor as he comes all over himself. 

“You’d better hurry,” Pierce murmurs, so close that the heat of his breath warms Bucky’s jaw. The way he rolls Bucky’s balls in his palm and tugs just this side of painful makes Bucky’s mouth drop open. This is not something he’s told Pierce to do, hell, he never even knew he got off on that, but Jesus have mercy on his soul, he’s rock hard too. 

Bucky reminds himself that he has to let it happen. Still; he fights to conjure up the decency not to think about touching Steve as he’s rapidly crashing down the road of no return. The slide of Pierce’s cock inside him sends sparks flying behind Bucky’s eyes, and he stutters his hips in perfect sync with Steve’s moans. 

It should be shameful to come full force impaled on Pierce’s cock, and it will be, but for a moment there’s nothing but white-out pleasure. 


	3. Chapter 3

**-7-**

Steve means to open his eyes, he really does. “Did I pass out?” He means to ask. “Are you okay?” 

What he says is “Hngh-uh.” There’s the familiar whirring of metal and Bucky steadies his head as he holds a cup to Steve’s lips. “Drink.” If there’s anything nicer than the cool liquid unsticking his tongue from his gums, Steve’s brain cannot come up with it right now.

“Thanks.” He drinks and coughs, a drizzle of liquid escaping from the corner of his mouth. Bucky’s warm thumb wipes it away swiftly. “Slowly. How’d you feel?” 

Steve blinks, trying to sit up on his own. “As if someone punched me in the guts,” he admits. 

Bucky nods darkly. “You’ve been out for a while. Pulse was all fluttery, too. Told them to leave your dinner. There.” He sets a tray down on the blanket of Steve’s thighs. “Gotta eat.” 

Steve studies the pulp of green vegetable puree and sloppily precut pieces of meat. His stomach feels like he’s eaten wool, but at the same time he’s starving. At least his headache’s gone for the moment, so he tries a spoonful and chews thoughtfully. He’s got his sleeping clothes on, he realizes, and someone – probably Bucky – must have cleaned him up. His ears burn. _Way to go, Rogers_.

“Bucky? Hey, I gotta –” He shakes his head, still trying to sort out his memories. “About what Pierce said…” 

Hands curl around his fingers tightly. “I’d never,” Bucky says. “Even Pierce must know that there’s no chance in hell I’d ever force myself on you –” 

Steve swats his arm. “Of course not!” He frowns, sighing deeply. “Not that. The other thing.” Bucky gives him a questioning look and Steve rolls his eyes. “That they’re just keeping me because of you? That I’m disposable.” 

“Steve!” Bucky throws his arms in the air in exasperation, “Of course that’s not true, Jesus Christ! If it fits him, Pierce will tell that story the other way round tomorrow; suddenly you’re the brilliant strategist and I’m just the guy who carries that metal arm before they’ll give it to someone else.” 

Steve eyes him doubtfully. “It’s just –” There’s a tiny camera in the corner. A few weeks back they discovered that it was visual only, but sometimes Steve still prefers to fall back on their alternative means of communication. He rests his hand on Bucky’s back, taps gently: I‘M–GETTING–WORSE 

For a moment, Steve thinks he sees a glimpse of fear in Bucky’s eyes, but it’s gone when Bucky shakes his head firmly. “There’ve always been ups and downs.” 

Steve bites his lip. His problems are no longer only physical, he’s been confusing dates and names too, and last week when he tried to recall the first time he met Pierce, he remembered two different occasions. Jesus. If there’s anything HYDRA doesn’t need, it’s a strategist who can‘t tell the difference between dream and reality. It’s also been obvious that something’s up; not only Pierce straying from protocol, a thousand different details that make Steve uneasy. It’s one thing to relax the rules a bit for two assets who’ve been on board for a while, but Steve can’t help but be reminded of the occasions when they kidnapped somebody without bothering to conceal their faces, and what that meant. 

Till now, he‘s flat out refused to even think about being terminated, but for Bucky’s sake, he needs to make arrangements. “There are a few keystones to a good strategy,” he says, nodding slowly. “The way Hydra likes it done. If you watch out for a couple of things, you’ll do what I do in no time.” 

“ _Steve_ –” 

“No discussion. I’ll start teaching you tomorrow.” 

— 

Later that night, Steve struggles awake because he’s having a hard time breathing. Not his lungs this time, thank god, just Bucky’s arm slung tightly across his chest. He relaxes, pressing back against the warm body behind him. 

“Bucky?” he whispers.

“Mh?”

Not sleeping either, it seems. 

“Tighter,” Steve says, and Bucky’s arms close up immediately. 

 

**-6-**

There’s no natural light in their room. When the infoscreens are off, it's hard to say what time it is. Or what day.

Bucky holds Steve’s forearm and turns it towards the fluorescent lamp. “Jesus, you need to stop that scratching.” He frowns at the angry red stripes that reach from Steve’s elbow to his thumb. 

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, shaking his head. “Don’t know why I keep doing that.” 

He jumps when he feels Bucky’s lips pressing against his irritated skin. It’s something fascinating they found out a long time ago, that Bucky can partially extend his healing powers. It’s useful, sure, but at the moment Steve can’t even let Bucky lick all the way up to the crook of his elbow before he snatches his arm away, cradling it close. Hiding the bulge in his pants, hopefully. 

“It’s just a scratch, stop mother-henning me. Dork.” 

Next to him, Bucky shakes his head slowly as he rises to his feet. “If someone asks, tell them it happened in the field.” 

Steve swallows. “Right.” He tries not to let them see him naked whenever he can avoid it anyway. He even gets changed in the blind spots of the security cameras, always stupidly convinced that the next time they see his scrawny figure, they’ll decide that it’s no use keeping him after all. 

Great, these dubious scratches won’t count in his favor either. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**-5-**

Steve dreams. For once he doesn’t see endless corridors of wooden stairs, nor women with hats or fire raining from the sky wrapped in thunder. Instead he dreams of Bucky, wearing the uniform of the man he’s named after – James Buchanan Barnes, the late Captain America. 

They say if you want to join HYDRA’s fight for freedom, you leave your own name at the door and instead receive a new one; a symbol of the great cause you dedicate your life to. And whose name is more fitting for Bucky than that of America’s greatest hero, a man who sacrificed his life for his country decades ago? 

“‘Bout time you showed up,” dream-Steve mumbles into red-white-blue as Bucky carries him to his cot. 

“No way, since when do you appreciate being rescued?” Bucky asks, lowering him down gently. Steve laughs. 

“Careful,” Bucky says, “Pierce, the bastard. He hurt you.” 

“Nah.” Steve bites down a grunt as he struggles out of his clothes. He wraps his naked body into the blanket with a content sigh. “Just a bit sore, ’s all.” 

Bucky huffs, draws the blanket back off him. “Don’t be silly. Let me fix that.” His warm hand finds Steve’s hip, drawing him closer. He mouths a kiss on Steve’s knee, slowly but firmly parting his legs. For a moment, they both watch Steve’s dick fill up untouched. “Get your legs over my shoulders,” Bucky whispers. “Hands on my head. Tug me away if it’s too intense.” 

“Oh,” Steve whispers as Bucky lowers himself down. His breath hitches at the first damp touch of Bucky’s tongue, fingers gripping Bucky’s hair tightly. “Oh my god,” he sighs breathlessly, toes curling as Bucky laps at tender skin, sending jolts of electricity up and down Steve’s spine. “Buck,” he whimpers, “Buck, I’m not gonna last, I’m gonna – Jesus Christ, Bucky I’m –” 

“Yes,” Bucky says simply, almost tipping Steve over as he licks up to his balls in one smooth motion. He kisses Steve’s flushed cock. “In my mouth.” Steve sobs out loud, tugs Bucky up that last inch and arches his back towards him. “Can’t wait, can’t wait–” As Bucky sucks him in, Steve bites his fist, skin on his cheeks wet with tears or sweat or both. “More, please more –” 

The friction is not enough, just teasing, _teasing_ , and Steve grinds his hips up desperately and – oh god there, yes, yes, that’s it. Steve feels the orgasm building low in his belly, ripping out of him a second later with a force that makes Steve cry out uncontrollably. His whole body twists and shudders, hips never stopping chasing the delicious friction as wave after wave of pleasure rolls over him. Steve’s shaking, lungs fighting for oxygen. Bucky’s arms keep him steady. Steve sobs into the soft fabric of Bucky’s black nightshirt, lets himself be drawn close, dark, safe, until suddenly – 

Black nightshirt. _Oh god._ Steve scrambles up with a start. 

“Bucky? I – I had a dream, I – did I –?” His pants stick to his body wetly, there’s no mistaking what part of the dream had been real. He rarely comes untouched, so he must have… pressed against Bucky at the very least, rubbed off against him more likely. 

“’s okay,” Bucky says, voice rough and low. “Go back to sleep.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Steve says. “I –” He shrugs out of his shirt. “Have I – let me clean you up –” The metal arm catches his wrist tightly, but he’s already drawn the blanket aside and seen – 

He tilts his head at Bucky’s erection. “Oh,” he says, “Oh. Please, let me.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “You don’t owe me anything!” 

“No, but I want to. Please, I want to.” 

Steve sees Bucky’s jaw work. “Hands,” he says eventually and Steve tries to hide his disappointment. There’s nothing memorable about his hands. 

“Okay,” he says anyway. He’s considering his options as he hears movement beside him; Bucky’s propped himself up on his elbows. It’s hard to say in the dark, but Steve thinks he might blush at Steve’s inquiring frown. “I, um.” Bucky says. “Can I watch?” 

Steve’s smile splits into a grin. 


	5. Chapter 5

**-4-**

At the touchpad in the corridor, Steve sets up a spontaneous training appointment. It’s possible for a small guy to be an effective fighter, he reminds himself; he just needs to use a different technique than a muscular one. 

 _Right, gym in 15 minutes_. At least the choice of clothes isn’t a difficult one. Unless somebody has trouble choosing between black, black-slightly-faded or black-with-black patch on the left elbow. The only spot of color on any of his clothing is the bright red smudge of HYDRA‘s logo. Steve goes for a combination of black sweats and a long sleeved black shirt that seems to have shared the washing machine with a paper tissue at least once. 

Steve picks a few lint balls off the fabric before he gives it up as a lost cause and shrugs it on anyway. Something scrapes over the irritated skin of his left arm. With a curse, Steve starts scratching. He pauses as he feels something not-fabric underneath his fingertips. Frowning, he turns his sleeve inside out. Something’s in there, some kind of paper. He takes off the shirt to get a better look. There’s a pretty worn leaflet stitched to the inside of the sleeve, faded and ragged from being put in the washing machine. An advertisement of sorts. Steve squints and looks closer. 

E X T - - -E - DUE-O 

 _Extended due to popular demand_. The colors are faded, but he’d recognize the pattern anywhere. The uniform he‘s seen Bucky wearing in his dreams. 

He ducks back into what he deems a surveillance free corner and rips the paper from where it’s stitched to the inside of the sleeve with one single stitch. _National Mall_ , the copy says. _Smithsonian_. There’s something scribbled on it too, in a handwriting not unlike Steve’s, just messier. He squints. _Don‘t ask for permission._

Steve’s not sure why his pulse suddenly spikes up. _They’re coming for him they’re coming for him they’re coming_ – He pockets the paper quickly and grabs a fresh shirt. Training. Regroup with Bucky later.

 

**-3-**

Bucky studies himself in the full length mirror. The props room is large, stuffed with all kinds of clothing for undercover missions, even a cabinet with false beards and such. He hasn’t bothered turning on the light, he already sees too much.

Wearing any kind of suit makes him feel ridiculous, but the tuxedo is the worst – he’s used to tac belts and kevlar reinforcements. And now when he needs it most, all he gets is thin fabric that clings to his body like a second skin. Bucky wonders if everybody who looks at him sees that he’s on display. 

His freshly shaved face looks oddly young. “You better check out right now,” he murmurs to that wide-eyed kid in the mirror as he finishes with his bow-tie. Naked, that’s how he feels. 

He’s been called away for representative tasks before. HYDRA cells from all over the world send delegations sometimes, asking to see Pierce‘s famous super-soldier initiative. Bucky’d been uneasy at first; the likes of him and them are normally separated by a two-way mirror. Also, is he anywhere as out of place as in a theater or at a fancy banquet? They use more silverware for one dinner than he has tools to open a safe, and at first he’d suspected that Pierce dragged him along just to watch him embarrass himself. 

Yeah, not quite. Bucky has a vivid memory of a moment at the dinner hall, just before everything went to hell. All day, people had been asking questions, mostly directed at Pierce. Some inspected his arm, full of praise for his work. Bucky hadn’t known he was such a sucker for shit like that. By midnight he’d felt almost tipsy, having a lighthearted conversation about security codes with a pretty agent from Canada who called him “charming”. He’d nearly asked her for a dance – and what a story that would have been for Steve. 

He’d been so wrapped up in his illusions of being important and admired that it took him a while to catch on when Pierce ‘accidentally‘ spilled his champagne over Bucky’s shirt. _Oh dear, you better take it off_. Only much later he‘d realized that of course they must all have known beforehand how that evening was going to end. 

The comb breaks in his hand and he digs his metal fingers into his own flesh until the pain grounds him. It’s not real, it’s not real unless he lets it be. 

He jerks around as the door flies open. Steve. The light goes on and Bucky squints against the sudden brightness. 

“There you are. I need to – oh.” From the doorway, Steve stares at him. “They cut your hair.” 

“You don’t say,” Bucky murmurs. He’s got to keep it together. If Steve finds out, he’s going to do something stupid for sure. 

An elbow nudges his ribs. “Suits you though,” Steve says. “Actually, I had a dream the other night where you had a similar haircut.” He clears his throat. “Whatever, never mind.” He looks Bucky up and down. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” Jesus Christ. “Pierce’s got guests, he expects me to show. The whole mumbo-jumbo. Must have really pissed him off this time, he’s making me sit through two hours of some concert before dinner even starts.”

Steve’s eyes widen. “What kind of concert?” 

Bucky shrugs. “How should I know?” He forces his mouth into a lopsided grin, raises an eyebrow at Steve. “Tell you what, maybe I can snatch you a program or something.” 

“You would?” He looks so hopeful Bucky’s chest hurts. Poor bastard read the two books on their shelf about fifty times each. “Sure.” He ruffles Steve’s hair playfully. Steve grimaces and swats him off. 

“No, but really. If there’s a catchy tune, at least try to remember it. You gotta whistle it to me later, okay? And tell me everything; the music, the food, the beautiful fancy people –” Reaching to correct Bucky’s sloppy bow tie, he says: “You’ll fit right in.” He steps back and looks at his handiwork with a content nod. “There.” 

Bucky realizes that he needn’t have worried. Steve never expected to be taken along; he thinks they’re celebrating HYDRA’s super-soldier program and he’s not invited because he’s simply not presentable. 

 _You’re perfect_ , Bucky wants to say. _And you stay behind because I begged on my knees._

“Gotta go,“ he murmurs instead, shoving his hands into his pockets. Steve falls into step with him. “I’ve got a surprise for you when you come back,” he says. 

“Oh yeah, like what?” 

Steve smiles broadly. “There‘s someplace I need to go.“ His left hand finds Bucky’s back, tapping quickly. HAVE-YOU-EVER-BEEN-ON-A-DATE? 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**-2-**

Steve wakes up and Bucky’s not back. What on earth – 

5:32 am. Steve turns around and tries to sleep. At 6 he kicks off his blanket in frustration, at 7 he eats breakfast, at 8 he reads one of his two books again, backwards and only one sentence per page to mix things up. At 9 he goes out and knocks against the security glass of the booth in the corridor. Jones is on duty. 

“Hey. Looking for Agent Barnes, any news when he‘ll be back?” 

Jones frowns. “Came back in the middle of the night.” He squints at the screen before him. “Transport room.” 

Even that short run makes Steve’s lungs burn nowadays. When the van isn’t there, the room’s mostly empty except for a few shelves and boxes. Bucky sits on the bench, wearing full combat gear. He gives no indication of acknowledging Steve’s presence. 

“Bucky? Buck, you alright? Take-off isn’t until tomorrow.” 

Bucky breathes loudly, no, he mutters something, and Steve approaches slowly. Bucky’s jaw is working, but his lips are pressed together tightly as he raises his head, eyes darting aimlessly across the room. 

“Hey.” Steve crouches down, cups Bucky’s cheek gently. “Hey there.” 

Bucky frowns at him silently. “Steve?” he asks eventually. 

“Yeah.” Steve says, threading his hand through Bucky’s wild hair. He must have washed the pomade out at some point. 

“Oh.” Bucky nods, flesh hand raising to squeeze Steve’s own. “I got you a program of the concert. With pictures and lots of text.” His lips twitch up into a faint smile. “You can play with my hair while you read it.” Suddenly, Bucky grips Steve’s shoulders painfully. “I pocketed it, I – my clothes, they – they took ‘em. It was such a nice program, I wanted you to have it, but they – I...” Confused and miserable, that’s the only way Steve could describe Bucky’s expression. 

“Ssh.” He kisses Bucky‘s forehead. “It’s okay, I don’t need that program. What’s wrong, Buck, what happened?” Bucky rests his head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve wishes he knew something more helpful to do than rubbing Bucky’s back. “What was that?” he asks as Bucky murmurs something into his sweatshirt. 

“’S not real,” Bucky whispers. “’s not real unless I let it be.” A shudder runs through him and he clings to Steve hard. “It’s not real, it’s not real –” He presses his fist against his mouth but the sobs rip themselves out anyway. Steve holds him as tight as he can as Bucky’s whole body starts shaking violently. Steve’s own throat hurts at the sounds Bucky makes even though he forcefully tries to keep quiet. 

“L-look at that,” Bucky laughs bitterly. “Now they get to see me break down after all.” 

Steve glimpses up at the ceiling camera, red light glowing in the dimly lit room. 

“Like hell,” he says and grabs his t-shirt between his shoulder blades, pulling it off unceremoniously. “Here, come here.” It’s not much fabric because he’s not much of a soldier, but he draws it over their heads like a tent, and he strokes Bucky’s sweaty neck as he weeps. 


	7. Chapter 7

**-1-**

Steve considers a change of plans. Bucky’s slept for a day straight, went to the mission briefing with him and packed his stuff, not talking more than absolutely necessary. 

An exhibition, it’s ridiculous. Bucky needs so much more than a silly distraction, and going on a treasure hunt just because Steve found some washed out leaflet is insane. Yet, he’s been extremely lucky in his scheming and they won’t get a window of opportunity like that again anytime soon, maybe never. It’s also breaking an insane amount of rules, and Steve can’t help feeling a grim satisfaction at that. 

He loads his stuff into the van and nobody finds his bag suspicious; they need their tools for breaking and entering after all. The clothes he snatched from the props room are maybe a bit more than they’ll need for one afternoon out. 

What if – what if they didn’t go back? Traitors, yes, but Steve’s been thinking, and while people deserve to be saved from threats to their lives and freedom, the total defeat of HYDRA‘s enemies would put a lot of power into their hands. Steve bites his lip. They had a lot of power over Bucky yesterday, and what have they done with that? 

Steve sighs, rubbing his temples. Maybe the exhibition is exactly what he needs: something to set his head straight. And what’s more inspiring than their country’s greatest hero? Bucky will like that. Besides, Steve’s also curious about Cap’s lightweight best friend – he’s not his namesake for nothing. Seems he wasn’t much taller than himself either, a stubborn little shit who’s credited with some of the Howling Commandos’ most daring (and successful) missions. There might even be pictures. 

Steve’s tools clatter softly as the van makes a turn. They’re out alone today, merely planting surveillance. The target’s house is full of death traps though, that’s why the mission ended up on their plate. They’re scheduled for some kind of physical this afternoon, something nobody could tell him more about, only that it couldn’t be moved. Still, the way Steve rigged the schedule, they’ll have about two hours of free time once they’ve planted the bugs. 

There hasn’t been any opportunity to tell Bucky about the plan. One thing’s clear: if they get caught, they’ll both be in for severe punishment. Bucky’s hardly recovered from what he’d been put through merely a day ago – Steve won’t drag him along without giving him the chance to opt out first. If he’s willing to follow Steve, they’ll go, if not, nobody needs to know what he’d been contemplating. 

Steve curls his fingers around Bucky’s flesh hand. “Do you trust me?” 

Bucky frowns at him. Nods firmly. 

With a smile, Steve lets his fingers start tapping against Bucky’s palm. 

 

 


End file.
